My parents moved from ranch to ranch, valley to valley, town to town, but our roots in Fowler never really faded. For me, it’s a place of history, stories and songs, not just facts and figures.
Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.
Truth cannot be brought down; rather, the individual must make the effort to ascend to it. You cannot bring the mountaintop to the valley. If you would attain to the mountaintop, you must pass through the valley, climb the steeps, unafraid of the dangerous precipices.
I was just sitting on my bed in a dormitory room, and I started writing. The thing that was magic about it was that once you put down one word, you could cross it out. I figured that out right away. I put down ‘mountain,’ and then I’d go, ‘No – ‘valley.’ That’s better.’
A friend who is far away is sometimes much nearer than one who is at hand. Is not the mountain far more awe-inspiring and more clearly visible to one passing through the valley than to those who inhabit the mountain?